while hooves are gliding,
as he is silently riding.
For the thrown dispatched
he who is attached
to the guard of the northern hills,
an army marches in the season of chills.
With work laid to rest,
farmers, no longer but, invaders
to their neighbor’s nest,
not as traders but as raiders.
Food is lacking,
so they are attacking.
Loyal Knight tracking,
watching 10 legions is nerve-racking.
For these invaders were once allies,
lacking all lies,
friends now at each other’s throats,
while covered in wet coats.
This year a cursed one,
grain stores burned,
and crops never begun,
for all the land to late learned.
As the servant watches over legions,
he notices the change in the regions.
These Cursed Invaders began culling!
Man and beast started falling!
These were the acts of no man,
but of Beasts forsaken by all,
trembling the Knight ran to warn his kinsman,
before villages were their haul.
Thank you for taking the time to read my poem!
I trully appreciate it, I ask that if you enjoyed this poem
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